What Friends Do
by Smackalicious
Summary: Gibbs discovers Jack wants Vance to attend a support group for widowers and does his part to make it happen - and help them both along the way. Written for DeepBlueJoy for the 2018 NFA White Elephant Exchange. ONESHOT.


**Title: What Friends Do**  
 **Pairing: I'm gonna leave that up to you, readers ;)**  
 **Rating: K+**  
 **Genre: Friendship, minor Angst**  
 **Cat: Gen**  
 **Spoilers: Anything after Shabbat Shalom? Especially current season stuff since Jack's in it. But nothing specific.**  
 **Warnings: None.**  
 **Summary: Gibbs discovers Jack wants Vance to attend a support group for widowers and does his part to make it happen - and help them both along the way.  
 **Author's Note: Written for DeepBlueJoy for the 2018 NFA White Elephant Exchange. The prompt I used was: "**** **Vance and Gibbs join a widower support group. Vance wasn't keen on going, so Gibbs agrees to go with him. The effect is healing for both men." I twisted the prompt just a little bit, but I think it still works. I do hope you enjoy it, Blue. :)** **  
**

* * *

"Look, I appreciate the concern, but I really don't think it's necessary. I can -" Vance looked up at the sound of his office door closing, his expression of surprise turning into a frown as he registered Gibbs' appearance, "- take care of myself. Listen, someone's here. Yeah. Talk to you later, Jack." He hung up the phone and looked to Gibbs. "Something I can help you with, Gibbs?"

"Just wanted to update you on the Rogers case."

Vance raised an eyebrow. "And you couldn't call me to do that?"

Gibbs smirked. "Maybe I just wanted to see you."

Vance rolled his eyes and sat down, sighing, and motioned for Gibbs to do the same. "Sorry. It's just... Jack."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows and tried to sound nonchalant. "Jack?"

"Not like that," Vance said, and Gibbs motioned for him to continue. He hesitated, then said, "She wants me to go to this support group she found." He saw the hint of a smile start to make its way across Gibbs' face and quickly added, "It's for widowers." He took only slight satisfaction in watching Gibbs' smile disappear; he knew the other man understood the title far too well.

It took a few moments of strained silence before Gibbs recovered. "She thinks... you're struggling?"

Vance didn't meet his eyes, instead fidgeting with a pen on his desk. "It hasn't been easy." It was as much of a confession as Gibbs was going to get.

"Yeah, it hasn't," Gibbs agreed quietly, and Vance knew better than to assume Gibbs was talking about the current situation. Heavy silence fell once more, both men lost in their own thoughts and memories, then Gibbs broke the calm.

"I should get back to it. I left McGee in charge and I'm sure Bishop and Torres are driving him up a wall."

Vance chuckled. Gibbs had a way of forming teams of wildly clashing personalities that somehow worked when they were on a case. Back in the office with nothing to do, however...

He looked up at the sound of his office door clicking shut, Gibbs having left while he was lost in his own thoughts. Typical. Bring up something that might require the man to actually talk and he finds a way to sneak out of it. But then again, it wasn't like he was exactly eager to open up, either.

He ran a hand over his face and turned his attention back to work. It would be a good distraction.

Outside, Gibbs looked over the railing at the bullpen, checking to make sure his agents were still intact, then went in a different direction before he changed his mind.

He actually knocked before entering, but didn't wait for an answer before opening the door and poking his head in. "Hey, you got a minute?"

Jack looked up from her desk, a surprised smile on her face. "Gibbs, hi. I've always got time for you." She closed her laptop to give him her undivided attention and waited for him to take a seat, trying not to deduce too much from his actions as he did so. He looked vaguely uncomfortable, but most people did when they came to talk to her. It was par for the course when you were a forensic psychologist.

He settled himself, shifting a bit before he spoke, not quite meeting her eyes. "I just talked to the Director."

Jack frowned a bit at his formality; she'd always been under the impression that they were closer than that. "And?" she prompted. "Did he do something inappropriate?"

Gibbs chuckled at that and Jack found herself relaxing. "No, no, nothing like that. Leon's the last person. . ." He trailed off, and his use of Vance's first name eased Jack's worries even more. He sighed and finally looked up at her. "He told me you wanted him to go to a support group."

Jack nodded slowly, unsure of how much Vance had told him. "I did. I honestly think just about everybody could benefit from a support group of some kind. I know he might not be super open to it, but I tried to explain to him the benefits. . ."

"I want to go with him."

Jack closed her mouth and blinked a few times. It wasn't often a person took her by surprise like that, but Gibbs also wasn't most people. Still, this was unexpected. "Really!" She couldn't help the note of novelty in her voice and Gibbs fought back a roll of his eyes.

"What, you don't think I can be supportive?"

Jack's eyes widened. "No. No! I never said that. I'm just. . ." She squinted at him. "What's in it for you?"

"I feel like he could use a friend. At the meetings, I mean. I don't know how they really work, but I can't imagine opening up about your own grief with a group of strangers is all that easy, even if they understand what you're going through." He frowned a little at the last part of his answer and Jack filed that away in her head for later examination.

"That makes sense," she agreed, but she was still a little confused. Why exactly was he coming to her? "So what's the problem?" At the expression on Gibbs' face she elaborated, emphasizing her words with hand motions. "Why not just go to him and tell him that? Do you think he won't listen or think you're being facetious or?"

Gibbs shook his head at all her suggestions and she tried not to sigh too obviously. She had to remember this was Gibbs she was dealing with; she'd heard from Vance even before she'd come to DC that he wasn't the easiest person to read.

"How much do you know about my past?" he said after a moment. Before Jack could even respond, he continued. "I was a father once. Had a daughter, Kelly." He caught a glimpse of the sorrow on Jack's face and looked away; that expression on people's faces never really got easier to handle, no matter how many times he told the story. "She was killed in a car crash, along with her mother. My wife."

"Gibbs, I'm. . ."

"It wasn't an accident."

Jack's mouth hung open in a moment of clarity as she suddenly understood what he was saying. She wasn't going to insult him by stating it out loud, though. But she still had one question. "Why come to me?"

"Your support group. Name, address, meeting time."

Jack nodded slowly as she realized his intent. Sneak attack. Gibbs wasn't the type to try to appeal to someone's emotional side and she didn't think that was the kind of relationship he had with Vance, either. It wasn't necessarily how she wanted things to go, but somehow, she thought this might work.

She scribbled the information down on a sticky note and peeled it off the pad, handing it over, unable to help smiling a bit. "Good luck," she said.

"Yeah," Gibbs agreed as he glanced down at what she'd written. He stood. "I think I'm gonna need it."

* * *

"You gonna tell me where we're going?" Vance buckled his seat belt and turned his attention to the driver.

Gibbs couldn't help but smirk as he turned the key and the car fired into life. "Nope."

"Gibbs. . ."

"You'll find out soon enough."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Vance muttered.

Gibbs made a vague motion with his hand. "You didn't have to say yes when I asked you to come with me. I mean, it's not like I'm your boss."

That made Vance chuckle. "Maybe I just needed a night out, thought you might have something fun planned."

Gibbs made a face. "Me? Fun? Sounds like you have me confused with somebody else, Leon."

"Well, maybe our idea of 'fun' is the same. God knows I haven't stepped foot in a nightclub since my twenties."

Gibbs laughed at that. "I don't know, I think you could cut a rug with the best of them."

Vance gave him a look. "I don't think they call it 'cutting a rug' anymore, Gibbs."

That made both of them laugh and a comfortable silence fell until Gibbs pulled into a parking lot behind a small church, making Vance raise an eyebrow in question.

"Never pegged you as the religious type, Gibbs," he said, cautiously reaching for and unbuckling his seat belt.

"Full of surprises, me," he responded as he opened the door and stepped out. He didn't say anything to give Vance a clue as to what was really going on, but he hoped Vance's usual personality would remain intact and he wouldn't make a scene when he figured out the purpose of the trip.

When they walked into the church basement and witnessed the tableau before them – around 20 middle to senior aged men milling around a semi-circle of folding chairs – Vance quickly connected the dots and nearly turned around and walked out again, but Gibbs was right behind him and blocked his way.

"You think this is a joke?" Vance hissed, keeping his voice down so as not to offend the other men there.

"Obviously not, or else I wouldn't be here," he said, giving Vance a pointed look. He kept his voice low as he continued. "I know this isn't going to be easy, but I feel like it could be helpful."

"Oh you do, do you? And I suppose you were in on this with Jack the whole time?"

Gibbs shook his head. "I only got her to give me the meeting information." He sighed. "You know, I'm not just doing this for you. Or for Jack," he quickly added when he saw Vance open his mouth. He looked down at the ground. "I never really got over Shannon's death, you know. And if the following years have taught me anything, it's that it's never too late to start over." He looked up and found Vance giving him a compassionate look. "I'm not telling you to forget about Jackie, not by a long shot. But you also don't have to feel like you can't still have someone in your life."

"I have people in my life, Gibbs," Vance said after a moment. "But I see what you're saying." He paused, then added, "Thank you."

Gibbs clapped a hand on his shoulder and said, "Don't say I never did nothing for ya."

Vance chuckled and they made their way into the room, greeting the men therein with nods and brief hello's. It wasn't long before the meeting started and both men felt their reservations slipping away.

Other than introducing themselves, both Gibbs and Vance chose to listen this first time. There was no pressure to share their stories if they didn't feel comfortable doing so quite yet, and they both instinctively knew within the first few stories that this wouldn't be their last meeting.

As the meeting wrapped up and some of the men shared contact information, Vance found himself smiling, even though the subject matter hadn't been the lightest.

"Glad we came?" Gibbs asked, seeing the look on his face.

"You know, I am," he admitted, then held up a finger. "But don't think this is going to get you out of trouble when you pull crap at work."

"Aw, man, I'd been counting on that," Gibbs said, snapping his fingers.

Vance rolled his eyes, holding the door open for Gibbs. "Don't make me slap you," he growled, only half joking.

Gibbs' laugh followed them out into the night.

* * *

The next evening, Vance ran into Jack in the parking lot and she couldn't help but casually ask him about what he'd been up to.

"So, do anything fun last night?" she asked, only a hint of a smile on her face.

He shrugged. "I wouldn't say _fun_ , necessarily, but. . . it was an enlightening evening." He narrowed his eyes at her. "But I suppose you knew that already."

Jack held her hands up in front of her. "Hey, I only set the wheels in motion. I have no idea how things turned out. But I assume it went well?" She had almost a grimace on her face, as if afraid of the answer.

To her relief, Vance smiled. "Yeah. It did. You were right, as usual."

She gave him an indulgent smile and reached out for him, before catching herself and pulling her hand back, though not without regret. "Hmm. Funny how that works."

Vance's mouth quirked up at the corner as well. "Yeah. Turns out I should have just listened in the first place."

"Or maybe things worked out just how they were supposed to." She raised her eyebrows at him, then made a show of looking at her phone. "Oh, would you look at the time. I have so much to do. . ."

"Busy lady."

She slid her phone back into her jacket pocket and looked up at him. "But never too busy for you, Leon. I'll see you later?"

He nodded. "Sure. I just have a quick, uh, errand to run first."

Jack just smiled knowingly. "Sounds good. Bye."

Vance watched her walk away, wondering what he'd gotten himself into, bringing Jack to DC. She'd been good for him, though. Forced him out of his comfort zone, listened when he needed to talk. And she'd been good for Gibbs' team, too. And for Gibbs himself.

He smiled to himself. He'd told Jack he had an errand to run and he hadn't been lying.

* * *

"Anybody home?" Vance called out as he poked his head through the basement door.

Gibbs looked up from his sanding. "Good thing I was holding sandpaper and not a gun, or else we might not be talking right now."

Vance chuckled as he walked down the stairs. "Shoulda locked the door if you didn't want visitors."

"Nah, that's no fun." He set the sander down and leaned back, placing his hands on his thighs. "What can I do for ya, Leon?"

He shrugged, making his way to the hull Gibbs was working on and trailing a finger along the ribs of the boat. "Suppose I just wanted to say thank you again. For last night." He looked up and saw Gibbs raising an eyebrow at him. "What?"

"Nothing, just that when you put it that way, sounds like we were doing something other than what we were doing."

Vance glared at him. "I think you spent far too many years hanging around DiNozzo," he muttered, and Gibbs laughed.

"Yeah, probably," he admitted. A few moments passed before he added, "You're welcome. Thursday night, right?"

"Yeah, yeah." He fell silent and Gibbs looked at him expectantly.

"I assume that's not all you came here for." He sat back again, his posture open, and Vance shrugged again. It was a little frustrating for Gibbs, Vance's sudden shyness, but he supposed. . . this was new for him. For both of them.

"I, uh, I told Jack I would meet her later."

"She know you were coming here?"

Another shrug. "She probably had some idea."

"And?"

"She seemed okay with it. More than okay, really."

Gibbs leaned forward a bit. "Then what's the problem?"

Vance let out a heavy breath. "I don't know. Suppose I'm just wondering what we're doing."

Gibbs shrugged. "It doesn't have to be anything big, Leon. It is what it is."

"And what's that?"

Gibbs pushed himself off his stool and took the few steps to stand in front of Vance. "Friends. Helping each other."

"Helping?"

"Helping." He waited a beat, then added, "Though if you want to label it. . ."

Vance held up a hand, stopping him from going any further. "You're right. It doesn't need a label." He looked down at his watch, then hesitated before looking back up at Gibbs. "You know, it's still fairly early and I told the kids' nanny I'd be home late. And I'm sure Jack wouldn't mind extra company. . ."

A slow grin made its way across Gibbs' face. "You asking me out, Leon?"

Vance just smiled in return.

* * *

"You ready?"

"It's not like we haven't done this before, Gibbs."

"I know, but. . . this time's different."

Vance sighed. "Yeah, it is. And yes, I am ready."

"Good." Gibbs held the door open for him and allowed him to enter first.

It had become a familiar sea of faces, with the occasional newcomer, noticeable by the bright grief in their eyes – perhaps new, sometimes years old and never given the proper attention. Tonight was no different from the other nights they'd been here, but for one thing.

"Would anybody like to share?"

One man raised his hand, finally ready. The group leader motioned for him to continue.

"My name is Leon, and my wife's name was Jackie."

 **THE END**


End file.
